Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Azerbaijan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Gladiators to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Grauzone,
The New Christs,
Absolute Body Control,
The Saints,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fluxion,
Amon Düül II,
Banda Bassotti,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donald Byrd,
Todd Terry,
The Martian,
Nirvana,
Pulsallama,
The Evens,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barrington Levy,
The American Breed,
The Mojo Men,
kango's stein massive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Michelle Simonal,
Don Cherry,
Max Romeo,
Slick Rick,
DNA,
ABC,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fortunes,
Black Moon,
Liliput,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Idris Muhammad,
Delta 5,
Rites of Spring,
Pantytec,
Black Flag,
Lalann,
Circle Jerks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mr. Review,
Mo-Dettes,
Subhumans,
John Coltrane,
DJ Style,
cv313,
Loose Ends,
Brand Nubian,
Aural Exciters,
JFA,
Deakin,
Ponytail,
The Black Dice,
Bauhaus,
X-101,
Ronnie Foster,
Marshall Jefferson,
China Crisis,
The Dead C,
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.